Playing Father
by aditou
Summary: In which Priest Mahaado attempts to reprimand his mischievous student.


**Title:** Playing Father  
**Fandom: **Yuugiou  
**Character: **Mahaado, Mana  
**Rating:** PG  
**Comments:** Most of my Romanization of the Japanese names come from Shonen Jump's version of the Yuugiou manga, so all hardcore fans, please forgive my ignorance on the matter of spelling, etc. Written for the 24hourthemes community on LiveJournal.  
**Disclaimer:** Yuugiou is copyright Kazuki Takahashi and all related affiliates.

* * *

The girl stands in front of him, toe drawing seas in the sand. The afternoon sun beats down on her, staining her dark skin coppery gold as she glances guiltily towards where he sits in the shade of a marble dome. His reed pen scratches on papyrus. He glances at a sundial in the courtyard to his right. How long has it been since he has last heard from her? Since six this morning? 

Either way, he has been putting this talk off for far too long.

"Mana," He does not trust himself to look at her yet, but he can sense her jump slightly. "Come near, please."

She hesitates for only a moment. How easy it would be for her to bolt now. But he gives her a moment's glance that says, _You would be a fool to delay the inevitable any longer_. So she moves, reluctantly stepping into the shade of his sitting area. Her large eyes dart like a kitten's. He makes a few more marks on the scroll, and then sets down the pen and paper.

"What you did, Mana, was very wrong."

Her mouth opens, but he silences her with a raised hand. "It was wrong and cruel and negligent, not to mention childish. I had thought," He raised his eyes to meet her. "That you had since outgrown such antics. But clearly, I was mistaken."

"Master--," she begins, but he continues.

"Lord Siamun claims he has not spoken to you as of yet. Luckily for you, I have assured him that such measures are unnecessary..."

She looses an audible sigh of relief.

"However, Priest Seto is expecting a written apology."

"No way!" she bursts out. "He deserved it, you know he did, Master!"

_One, two, three…_ "Mana. Neglecting your lessons is one thing. Using that time to embarrass Priest Seto is another."

She gives him a defiant look, eyes shining with worry and emotion. "But he called you weak, Master Mahaado! In front of everyone! I couldn't let him get away with that. You're twice the magician he'll ever be!"

"How many times have I told you I don't care about that, Mana?" he allows a note of tender rebuke to enter his tone. Weariness hits him suddenly, and yet he is unsurprised by it. "All I care about is being able to serve the Pharaoh, and teaching you to do the same."

"But they--,"

"_They_ mean nothing, Mana. Not to me, and not to you. The only way they can affect us is if we allow them to do so."

He looks upon his apprentice, and is shocked when he sees tears glistening in her eyes. Biting her lower lip, she swipes at them, smearing the kohl that protects her sight from the sun. "Th-they don't matter to me, Mast-ter," she sniffles. "but _y-you _do…"

He blinks as she cries then, unsure for the span a breath of what to do. But then he knows. He knows it better than anything else in his world. Robes whispering, he moves, and grips her tightly to his shoulder, playing the father she never had. "Mana." he says. "You matter to me, too. You are as a sister and daughter to me, and I love you with all my heart."

Sniffing again, she lets herself cry, burying her face in her master's robes. "M-me too," A murmur.

"That is why I get on to you. I want you to be happy. Never, ever allow me to hold you back from anything."

She wipes her face again with a nod. "I'll t-try harder."

"Good," With a relieved sigh, he gently pulls back.

After allowing Mana a few moments of silence, he speaks up. "Now, will you apologize to Priest Seto?"

Her toe meets the earth again. "Must I really?"

"Mana, I have played many jokes in my life. But bewitching his hair pink is going too far."

"Like I said," The grin has returned to her face. "He deserved it."


End file.
